


Rough Edges

by Laylah



Category: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Glove Fetish, Leather Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The leather is different from what Emil's used to, almost smooth, with a faint grain in one direction. It feels strange, but good -- so it's a good fit for Richter, but Emil doesn't think he dares to say that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Edges

"All right," Richter says when they're done eating. "We should probably keep moving." They're only halfway back through the mausoleum, and they have a ways to go before they're out of here.

He doesn't sound like he really wants to go anywhere, though, and that makes Emil feel a little better about how he'd really like to stay put, too. He watches Richter pull his gloves back on, and all that practicing courage must be working, because he's reaching out to touch them before he's really had time to get scared and stop himself.

Richter freezes. "What are you doing?"

It takes all of Emil's courage not to pull back. "They're r-really nice," he says. They were his first impression of Richter, really -- a strong hand in a leather glove, taking his hand, helping him up.

"They were a gift from a friend," Richter says slowly, sort of...cautiously.

Emil draws his fingertips across the back of Richter's hand. The leather is different from what Emil's used to, almost smooth, with a faint grain in one direction. It feels strange, but good -- so it's a good fit for Richter, but Emil doesn't think he dares to say that. "What are they made of?" he asks instead.

"Wyvern," Richter says. He hasn't told Emil to stop, so either he really doesn't want to get moving or -- or he actually likes to be touched. "You...like them." He turns his hand palm up.

Emil nods. "They feel good," he says. His face gets hot. "Sorry. That's weird, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Richter says, and then catches Emil's hand when Emil tries to pull back. "That doesn't mean you should stop doing something you like."

"Oh," Emil says. He glances up at Richter's face, but it's hard to read Richter's expression behind his glasses. "What about you? Do you like it?"

Richter holds out his other hand, too, holds them both up for Emil to touch. That's right. Richter doesn't like to talk about feelings, so they won't fade. Emil figures he's being clear enough without words.

He traces little circles in the palms of Richter's gloves, slowly. Maybe he gets why Richter is frustrated by words, because when he tries to compare this feeling to something else, nothing really fits.

The way Richter just lets him do this makes him brave. After a minute he slides his hands under Richter's to hold them up, and leans down to press his face between them. The leather feels good against his face, too, and it smells really nice. Richter takes a shivery breath, and then his fingers move just a little, stroking Emil's cheek.

Emil looks up. "Richter," he says, and isn't sure how to go on.

"You want --" Richter says. He shakes his head. "Come here." He sits back against the wall, his knees spread, and pulls Emil closer. Emil lets Richter's hands guide him, settles in with his back resting against Richter's chest, Richter's thighs surrounding his. It's like a full-body hug, he thinks, as Richter's hands settle on his arms. "You can always stop me," Richter says.

"I don't want to," Emil says, shaking his head. "I don't want to stop you at all."

Richter makes a low sound like he just wants Emil to know he's listening. His hands start to move, sliding slowly up the length of Emil's arms. Emil shivers happily, because the feel of Richter's gloves on his skin is really nice, and just gets better the more Richter does it. He finds himself leaning into the touch, arching his back when Richter's fingers curl over his bare shoulders. He's getting tingly, nerves waking up all over his skin, and he thinks he's starting to get hard. Well, as soon as he pays any attention to it he definitely is.

But that's okay, he's pretty sure -- Richter knows he likes how it feels, and offered to touch him more. Emil squeezes his eyes shut and doesn't say a word, lets his heart just stay full of this happy feeling.

When Richter brings one hand up to touch his face, Emil leans into it, kisses Richter's gloved fingers. The smell of leather suits Richter really well, too, sharp and sort of warm. Richter's breath hitches in his chest, and his other hand comes to rest on Emil's waist, just stops there.

Richter's waiting to see what he's going to do, Emil realizes after a minute. He tugs his shirt up so Richter's glove rests on the bare skin of his belly. Richter makes another low sound, a pleased kind of hum, and slides his hand up under Emil's shirt. The skin's soft there and doesn't get touched much, so it's sensitive, and the leather feels rough. It's exciting, though. Emil squirms, and when Richter's fingers graze one of his nipples he whimpers. Richter does it again, and Emil squirms. He likes how it feels a lot. He wants to know if it would be like that on other sensitive places, too.

"Please," he says, and then trying to actually say it is terrifying.

"Please?" Richter repeats, his voice low in Emil's ear, the same kind of smooth-with-rough-edges as the leather.

Emil shivers. He can't get the words out, but he nods, reaches down to fumble his pants open and push the fabric out of the way. Richter shudders behind him, around him, again. His hand slides down Emil's stomach and Emil looks down, watches Richter's gloved hand wrap around his cock. It feels as good as he hoped. It looks amazing. Richter has big hands, and the leather is dark next to Emil's skin.

Richter strokes him -- slower, more gentle than he would have expected -- and Emil moans, pushes up into the touch. It's so _good_, being touched, having it be Richter. Emil tries to keep his eyes open and watch, because he wants to remember every detail, but it's hard. He feels so good, trembling and tense, and Richter's other arm wraps around his chest to just hold him tight, keep him close -- and Richter's breath against his neck is ragged -- and the rough edges of the glove's seams catch against his skin, drag, almost too much but not quite -- not quite too much, so it's -- he's -- he's spilling over the edge, giving himself up for Richter's touch and it's _wonderful_.

His breath sounds loud in the quiet afterward, and his heart is pounding. Words still won't come to him.

Richter squeezes him tight in one more hug, and then says, "We need to keep moving."

Emil looks down. The weird fabric of his clothes is swallowing up the mess he made, the same way it just makes dirt and monster blood disappear. He fumbles with fastenings, putting them back in order. "Um," he says. "Richter?"

"What," Richter says, and he sounds so impatient that Emil decides maybe he shouldn't offer to do it for Richter after all. Not right now, at least. Maybe when they get back to town.

He turns around anyway, doing his best to smile, and leans in so he can kiss Richter's cheek. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Richter says. But he's blushing.


End file.
